The Girls of Central High in Camp Part 15

"Well! I hope there's nothing much to do there to-night, save to eat supper," Jess said, yawning. "So much ozone is already making me sleepy."

"Father Tom promised to have a man there to meet us, who would even have the fire going and the teakettle boiling," said Bobby. "You see, he's been up here hunting and fis.h.i.+ng, and these guides all know him.

He can get what he wants from them."

The boats chugged on up the river and finally, as the evening began to draw in, they sighted the broadening sheet of water which they knew to be Lake Dunkirk. The lake was longer, but much narrower, than Lake Luna, and it was surrounded by an unbroken line of forest.

The sun was setting. Its last beams shone upon the island which lay about two miles above the entrance to Rocky River, and that island looked like an emerald floating on the blue water.

The light was fast fading out of the sky, save where the west was still riotous with colors. The big oaks on Acorn Island grew black as the shadows gathered beneath them.

At the nearer end was the hillock where they were to camp. Here the grove was open and they could see the cabin standing, with two tents beside it. One of the tents had a raised flap, and there was the stovepipe with a curl of smoke coming out of it.

Down at the edge of the sh.o.r.e--a smooth and sheltered bit of beach where the landing was easy--a man was sitting, smoking his pipe. A beautiful canoe, of Indian manufacture, had its bow drawn up beside him.

The boys and girls shouted a welcome as they drove in toward the sh.o.r.e. He rose, knocking the ashes from his pipe, and waved a hand toward the camp above. He was a tall man, almost as black as a negro, with long, black hair, and was barefooted.

"All right!" he grunted, gutturally. Then he pushed off, stepped into his canoe, and paddled away without another word.

The boats were beached and the young people began to disembark. Before the guide in the canoe got half way to the northern sh.o.r.e of the lake, he was lost to their sight, the darkness came down so suddenly.

CHAPTER X

GETTING USED TO IT

The boys were in haste to get to their own camping site, which was across from the island on the southern sh.o.r.e of Lake Dunkirk. So they hurried the baggage belonging to Mrs. Morse and the girls to the cabin, and then prepared to embark again with their own boats.

Chet saw to it that everything appeared to be in good shape about the camp on the island knoll, and he drew up the three canoes belonging to the girls, himself.

"Now, if you girls get into trouble to-night, toot this thing," and Chet produced an automobile horn which he had brought along for the purpose. "If you need us by day, Laura knows how to wig-wag with those flags. I taught her."

"For pity's sake, Chet!" exclaimed Jess, with some asperity. "Do you suppose we are going to need you boys every hour, or so?"

"I hope not!" added Lil Pendleton. "Surely we ought to be able to get along in camp just as well as you boys."

"Hear! hear!" cried Bobby. "How are you going to summon us if you need help, my dear little boys? Sha'n't we give you each a penny whistle so you can call us?"

Chet only laughed. Lance said: "We've been camping before; most of you girls haven't. Of course you will get into trouble forty times to our once."

"Well! I like that," sniffed Jess, who did not like it at all. "If girls aren't just as well able to take care of themselves, as boys, I'd like to know why."

"Jess is getting to be a regular suffragette," chuckled Dora Lockwood.

"Reminds me of the little girl whose mother was chasing the hens out of the garden," said Laura, with her low laugh. "The hen-chaser declared that 'You can't teach a hen anything, to save your life,'

when the little girl spoke up for her s.e.x, and said: 'Well! I think they know quite as much as the roosters!'"

"And that's all right," teased Lance, as the boys got under way. "I bet this bunch of hens on Acorn Island will holler for us roosters before we set the distress signal for _them_."

"Get out, you horrid thing!" cried Bobby. "Calling us hens. We're only pullets, at best."

A lantern had been lit in each tent, for the shadows were thickening under the oak trees on the knoll. Lizzie Bean at once began to overhaul the cooking utensils and supplies in the cook-tent.

This tent was divided into two parts. Lizzie's own cot was in the rear apartment. There was a long table, roughly built but serviceable, in the front with the stove and chest of drawers. There were folding campstools in plenty.

In the cabin was a comfortable straw mattress for Mrs. Morse in the wide bunk, a small table on which her typewriter case already stood, a rocker made in rustic fas.h.i.+on, a painted dressing case with mirror of good size, and shelves for books.

A small fire was burning on the hearth, for the cabin was apt to be damp after its many months of abandonment. It had been swept and garnished with boughs of sweet-smelling spruce and pine.

The girls' sleeping tent housed seven cots, all supplied with unbleached cotton sheets and heavy double blankets. Lil Pendleton looked about it when she brought in her bag, and s.h.i.+vered.

"Goodness!" she said. "I'm glad we're 'way out here in the wilderness if we're going to dress and undress in this thing. Why! I shall feel just as much exposed as though the sides were made of window-gla.s.s."

"What nonsense!" sniffed Bobby, who had been camping with her father and had spent many a night in a tent. "You're too particular, Lil."

"Who asked _you_ to put in your oar?" demanded Miss Pendleton, crossly. "I have a right to my opinion, I hope."

"I should hope it was n.o.body else's opinion," returned Miss Bobby, quick to pick up the gauntlet.

"Hush, girls!" advised Mother Wit. "Let us not be quarrelsome. We don't want Mrs. Morse to think we are female savages right at the start."

Lil sniffed; but good-tempered Bobby said, quickly: "You're right, Laura. I beg the company's pardon--and Lil's particularly. We must be 'little birds who in their nest agree.'"

"You're a fine bird, Bobby," laughed Dora. "Come on! I hear the dishes rattling. Let's see what Lizzie has tossed up for supper."

"I wonder if she managed to boil the water without burning it?"

giggled Jess. "She's the funniest girl!"

"I should think you and Laura could have found a maid who wasn't quite such a gawk," muttered Lil, unpleasantly.

"Hus.h.!.+" admonished Mother Wit. "Don't let her hear you."

"Why not?" snapped Lil.

"You will hurt her feelings."

"Pooh! she's paid for it----"

"Not for having her feelings hurt," declared Laura, sternly. "And I won't have it. She's odd; but she is quite as quick of hearing as the next person."

"Aw, you're too particular, Laura," drawled Lil. But she stood a little in awe of Mother Wit.

They joined Mrs. Morse and filed into the cook-tent. Lizzie's flushed face appeared behind the steaming biscuits and a big platter of ham and eggs. They did not really know how hungry they were until they sat down to these viands.

Lizzie stood with arms akimbo and waited for the verdict upon the cooking.

"Most excellent, Lizzie," Mrs. Morse said, kindly.